


Music of a Savage Heart

by CountessKlair



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Combat, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, I added a species, I'm sorry!, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Sorry but I changed some stuff don't hate me, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:45:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountessKlair/pseuds/CountessKlair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon searching a tower on the outskirts of the Tirashan Forest, mage Stephen Trevelyan and the Inquisition find a little more than they bargained for. </p>
<p>WARNING: Mentions of rape, detailed violence, and some cussing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

> Remember the trigger warnings, and that I changed some stuff. This is unbetad.

My arms ached, my pulse thudding dully through tired veins, but still we pushed on. The Bull grunted beside me, and I loosened my staff, ready for another wave of attackers. However, The Bull wasn’t alerting me to another bout of enraged Qunari, but to Cole.

The spirit was shaking, rocking back and forth on his heels, muttering to himself. “Fire, there’s fire everywhere, we’ve never had fire before, and it hurts, it hurts, it _hurts_ so bad, I’ve got to get away, I’ve got to warn the clan, I have to protect, I have to protect…”

Blackwall asked quietly, “Is he talking about either one of you?”

I stepped closer to Cole, giving The Bull and Blackwall my back, trusting them to cover me should more Qunari appear suddenly. I reached out gently, “Cole, who?”

He motioned farther down the hall. “There, down there, she needs help, she’s hurting, she’s hurting so bad.”

I nodded. “We’ll help her Cole. Alright?” At the spirit’s nod, I ran a soothing hand down his arm, and looked to The Bull. “Ready?”

Both he and Blackwall nodded, and I led them down the hall, stopping to clear a room on our left, which was thankfully empty. We reached the end of the hall, coming up to a thick iron door. I felt around the edges of it with magic, testing its strength gently. There were no curses or difficult locks on the door, and I gave The Bull a nod.

He slammed his weight into it, once, twice, and on the third time, it gave way and we rushed inside, weapons at the ready.

The room was damp, dark and bare save for a table and a bed. And a person. We came closer to the bed, the smell of blood thick in the air.

On the bed, laid a girl, arms and legs chained apart so she was spread-eagle across it. She was naked, but for the blood on her skin. She was covered in bruises across her limbs, mostly concentrated on her upper arms and thighs, cuts and burns marring other, more random areas.

Blackwall cursed.

The Bull spoke up, “They’ve got knives and shit on the table. Mostly common torture stuff, but some of this…” He lifted up a gag. “I don’t want to think about what they used this other stuff for.”

I took a deep breath. “Cole?”

The boy had his arms wrapped around himself, hands gipping so tight his knuckles were even whiter than the rest of his skin. “They can’t have done that, not that, she’s so small, so little, she can’t have been raped. But she was, she was, and she’s so small, so small.”

I grit my teeth. “Are there any keys over there? Let’s get her out of this.” I tried not to look too directly at her. Ridiculous as it seemed, she shouldn’t have to be seen as she was by us. It was hard to look away, though. All those marks…

As The Bull searched for a key or something of the sort, Blackwall took off his cloak, draping it over her. I sighed, stupidly thankful. “How could she have survived this?”

Blackwall shrugged. “Force of will, maybe?" He scrubbed a thumb across his forehead, asking, "Cole, you said something about her clan? She’s not elven, or dwarven.”

We turned to study her. In her current state, all I could see was matted reddish hair, pale skin, and all that blood. Blackwall was right, though. She wasn't small enough to be a dwarf, and she was missing the pointed ears of an elf. She was tiny, though. So very tiny.

I pressed my forearm against my nose, trying to block out the smell of the room. “Doesn’t matter right now, we’ve got to get her out of here. Get her to a healer. The Bull? Any luck?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, boss. Have to pick the locks.”

I huffed, dropping down next to the locks on her wrists, reaching into my belt pouch for the lock pick set Sera’d given me. “Wish one of the girls were here.”

Blackwall grunted. “You and me both.”

After a few frustrated minutes of cursing and silent praying that the girl would survive the journey, the manacles fell off of her wrists. A few wisps of smoke rose in the air, along with the smell of burned flesh. I studied her wrists, and tried not to vomit. Her wrists were burned so badly that bone was showing on one side of her left wrist, all skin melted completely off, everything yellow with pus and blackened muscle.

The Bull growled in anger. “Fucking shit. Those things were cursed, how come they didn’t burn you?”

I replied quietly, “They weren’t cursed.”

Cole came forward, pointing at the iron. “The metal, just as before, they touch it to me and I burn, and there is fire, there is so much fire.”

I turned away, my stomach roiling.

Blackwall stepped forward and took the lock picks from me, moving to work on the ones encircling her ankles. As the smell of burned flesh anewed in the air, I knew her ankles to be just as badly burned as her wrists.

When I finally gained control of my stomach, I turned back to her, asking the rooms other occupants, “Should we wake her?”

Cole answered, “She is awake.”

I opened my mouth to question him, but the smallest sound came from the girl. Eyes shuddered, and opened ever so slowly, the barest hint of dark green. They tried to focus, but couldn’t.  She tried to speak, lips cracking, and breath rasping like death, rattling through her bones.

I came closer, murmuring gently, “We are the Inquisition. We are here to help you. We can take you to a healer, if you want.”

Her head fell to the side, and I reached out, feeling for a pulse in her throat. Finding one, I let out a sigh of deep relief. “Blackwall, I need you and Cole to go first, clear out any stragglers that attack us on our way out of this blasted tower. I will go behind you, with the girl. The Bull, follow behind me.”

At their nods, I tucked the cloak tighter around her, lifting her slowly, one arm beneath her shoulders, another beneath her knees. Her ankles knocked together, and she awoke again with a sharp cry, hands flying to land weak blows against my chest.

I shushed her, repeating, “We’re the Inquisition. We’re here to help, all right? We’re taking you to our healer.”

Sluggish eyes focused on me finally, and I felt my heart break a little.

She finally nodded, the tiniest movement, and settled her arms close to her chest, curling into herself, but keeping her eyes open. I lifted her higher, settling her against my chest, and nodded to the others. “Move out.”

We had descended three levels, with two more to go, before we came across any others. A Qunari found us in a hall on the second level of the tower, and roared, charging forward.

She must have seen it, or maybe the roar triggered it, but I felt the girl turn to ice in my arms, her already irregular breaths coming quicker, much quicker, and so very very sharp. I fell back, leaning against the wall, and allowing The Bull, Cole, and Blackwall to dispose of the Qunari.

She was going to pieces, having what Leliana would call a panic attack. A few of the more experienced soldiers got them sometimes, and while we knew how to deal with the soldiers (stand back, say calming things, and breathe with them), I couldn’t put her down.

I shushed her, “It’s alright, we will keep you safe here.” Her eyes flew to mine, sharper now, and one bony hand reached out to lock itself around a part of my armor, keeping a hold of me. The Qunari dead, the others stood back, so as not to overwhelm her.

After a few minutes of breathing slowly, my eyes locked with hers, she calmed some. Exhausted, her head fell against my chest, sobs racking her abused body. I pushed off the wall, and we left that tower as fast as our feet could carry us.

***************************************

She had been in the healer’s tent for two hours, the sounds of clinking potion bottles and the smell of magic high in the air.

The four of us paced outside, tense and watchful. Cole kept twisting his hands together, muttering to himself, and I knew for certain that I didn’t want to know what he was hearing from her mind.

The sounds slowed, and the tent flap opened, a healer emerging. She looked tired, but triumphant.

She bowed her head. “Herald. The girl is recovering. She was sedated, but she isn’t sleeping yet. Her wounds were severe, but she has shown signs of quick healing. I maintain a positive outlook.”

Stitches came out of the tent, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Hey, your worship. Girl’s gonna be okay. Real champ.” He motioned to the other healer, and she handed him a rounded, cylindrical object. He grimaced, bracing himself. “We kept smellin’ that god awful burning, and we found this.”

He handed it to me, and I tried to figure out what it was. Short, stout, and solid, bloodstains covering it. I asked, “Where was it, I don't remember seeing it?”

Stitches paused. “We found it in her, your worship.”

Lightning sparked out of my fingertips with the renewal of my anger.

The Bull growled, “They shoved that inside her?”

Stitches nodded. “Looks like she’s got some allergy to metal, so bad it burns her. And that,” he pointed at the metal object, “is no exception. Burns’re pretty bad. Worship, I know what that’s used for.” He stepped closer. “This girl wasn’t just tortured, your worship. She was raped. It looks like they used this to keep her…” Stitches made a strange gesture, and continued, “Keep her open, worship.”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Will she live?”

Stitches stepped back and nodded. “Oh yeah. Real fighter. Doesn’t talk, but don’t worry about it. Should probably keep an eye out for PTSD and shit, but that goes with the territory these days.”

I opened my eyes. “Will do.”

Stitches nodded again, and pulling the other healer with him, moved off to The Bull, asking after the other Chargers’ whereabouts.

I threw the iron cylinder into the fire, the smell of ozone and blood in my nostrils.

*****************************************

Her name was Klærissæ, she was the _Tak Sadal_ of the Rejalk; a species of changeling warriors hidden away in the forests of Thedas. They were semi-nomads who lived in clans that only gathered together for two months out of the year, to celebrate an end of the year festival with war games.

Through achievements in these war games, she had, like all other members of their royal family (King, Queen, and Prince), been elected as her people’s princess, which was essentially what _Tak Sadal_ translated to in Common.

This information was given gradually, and almost never given verbally, as she preferred to use a pen and paper to communicate. When she was forced to vocalize something, she kept it as short as possible. She could speak common, though, as well as write well, and was extremely polite and very well mannered.

I had heard stories of her people in my Circle, but it seemed that no matter the opinion of the rest of Thedas on the ‘Savages of the Wood’, said savages were quite capable of behaving as well as any court-born official. If the girl was anything to judge by, at least.

She was very withdrawn those first few weeks, jumping at shadows, shying from bright lights, and stumbling over air the first week after her rescue, as she remastered walking. She had declined the offer to locate her people vehemently, saying that her clan had been killed by the Qunari who had captured her. They had retraced her steps, and took out the entire clan of changelings.

Another of the stories I knew of the Rejalk held true here. The story told of how the Rejalk could feel their clan members, somehow, connected to their life presence or something of the sort. She did not go into detail about it, but Solas found the concept very interesting.

She responded well to touch, as even after everything that had been done to her, she was still a creature of touch. Cullen theorized that touch and company had been something central with her clan, and as such, everyone in the inner circle made sure to keep physical contact gentle and ever present.

Her hair wasn’t a true red, but a red-gold reminiscent of the sun. She wore it long, the sides braided back, tight against her scalp. I had seen other female warriors wear it similarly in the past, but what was curious was how aware of it she was. She never let it get stuck in anything, or too tangled. Blackwall told me a story he’d once heard that next to weaponry, their hair was their highest valued possession.

As part of a culture that valued rocks as a type of valuable, I couldn’t really judge.

Then came the night terrors. On the way back to Haven, she hadn’t slept at all, but upon arrival, Josephine assigned her a room close to the healers, in case the more severe burns got infected. Or if she needed any kind of medical attention, really.

The head healer came to Josie three days later, very concerned about the girl next door who had dreams so terrible it left her almost bedridden until they passed. The more magically attuned healers were uncomfortable around her, because since the dreams were so strong, the details of said dreams could be seen and heard.

After a fortnight with the Inquisition, Varric came down to breakfast one morning with the girl right behind him. In a quiet voice, as Leliana fussed over her, he explained she had burst into his chambers the night before, pleading with him in Rejalkian. He tried to console her, but she didn’t calm until she crawled into his bed, curling herself into him, crying and shaking violently.

She sought us all out, after that. In the months that followed, one by one, we all found ourselves opening our doors in the dead of night, finding her on the other side. Everyone responded differently.

While even Vivienne would let her in the room, she, Leliana, and Cullen never let her stay in their rooms. Leliana and Cullen took her back to her own rooms, and would keep watch over her until morning. Vivienne was the only one who seemed able to truly calm her without resorting to a slumber party. Sera, Blackwall, and Cass always let her stay with them, though Blackwall insisted she take the bed and he the floor next to her.

I was the last one she came to. I felt a lead weight on me, like a warning, one night while preparing for bed, and I tried to shake it off, but I felt that that night would be my night. Unfortunately, I was correct. I awoke to the sound of quiet, swishing footsteps sounding against the ground outside my door. She was near hysteric, but not as bad as she had been that first night with Varric. She was getting better, slowly.

That thought was cold comfort when she was crying into my shoulder at two bells past midnight.

She told us to call her Clara on the first day of her third week at Haven.

She smiled over breakfast that morning, green eyes glittering faintly, like the promise of a sunrise.

*****************************************

Clara had been tense all morning, snapping at Krem, using unnecessary force to do her daily tasks, and she near hissed at The Bull when he made some ill-advised joke.

Dorian strolled up next to me, twirling a book between deft fingers. “Should I, or should you?” He kept his eyes forward, forcing me to ask.

I raised a brow at him, keeping the majority of my attention on the soldiers training. “Should I or should you what?” As usual, when Dorian came round, my heart decided to start acting up for no reason.

He motioned fluidly to Clara, who had paused from distributing water and was glaring at a kitchen boy who had stopped her to talk. Dorian asked easily, “Who should risk the princess?”

I snorted. “You’re more than welcome to try, but I doubt she’ll say anything to you. She hasn’t spoken all week, except to tell Krem to ‘Bugger off’.” I pointed out a flagging soldier to Cullen, who started off to relieve him. “How do you think you’ll fare?”

Dorian turned to face me more directly, keeping his voice light. “I’m higher on her favorites list than Krem.”

I looked askance at him.

He rolled his eyes, replying, “Fine, you may have that one. She’s not very fond of me at the moment, but how was I to know she hates blueberries?”

I smiled faintly, “She doesn’t hate blueberries, Dorian.”

We said together, “She loathes them.”

Dorian sighed. “Who, then?”

I frowned, half-heartedly mentally logging those recruits with potential. “Maybe we should just leave her be. She’ll come to one of us when she’s ready.”

The kitchen boy who had been talking to Clara, who I now placed as one particular kitchen boy with a lewd mouth, ran past, reduced to tears. I turned, and sighed. The other girls helping with water had turned decidedly away from the changeling, whose icy green gaze spelled certain death for the next to disturb her.

Dorian hummed. “I’m certain you know best, Stephen.”

*****************************************

I heard the familiar clanking of Cassandra’s armor coming closer to me. She slowed to walk alongside me, nodding at the people who bowed heads and such as we passed.

She said quietly, “The princess is upset.”

I sighed. “I noticed. The entire Inquisition has noticed, actually.”

Cass hummed. “She came to me earlier his morning. She is upset because you have declined to let her train with the other soldiers.”

I pressed my lips together firmly, biting back the first two angry responses I thought of. “It wasn’t my decision alone. I sought out Cullen’s opinion.”

“You mean you sought out his support.”

I exhaled sharply. “A changeling she may be, but also untrained.” I mentally kicked myself. No Rejalk was truly untrained. I added weakly, “She might get hurt.”

Cass turned her head slightly, saying sternly, “Herald, she is the changeling princess, their _Tak Sadal._ The Rejalk select their leaders based on achievements in war games. She has  been trained. You know this.” She paused, then asked, “Why do you still wait?”

I shoved a hand through my hair. “She’s only been with us a month. She’s said less than four words to anyone, save Krem and Cole. I don’t want to-” I looked around, then motioned Cass to follow me into a nearby garden, where we would find more privacy.

I sat on a bench, rolling my shoulders, gathering my arguments. “Cass, she’s still having night terrors. I do not want her to over stress herself. She’s just now gotten to the point where she’s not seeking one of us out every night. Allowing her to train would mean those soldiers coming at her full force, and I don’t want her to freeze and panic.” _Again._

Everyone in the inner circle knew the story of her rescue, and everyone was cautious of triggering another panic attack, though sometimes they came without provocation. I scratched at my scalp, saying quietly, “She’s been healing so well, Cass. And if we let her do this, it would risk how far she’s come and I don’t know if I can do that to her.”

Cass nodded somberly. “I understand. But this is something she needs. She is desperate to recover some part of the life she once led.”

I remained silent. I just wanted to keep her safe. I thought about how small she had looked, chained to that bed. All that blood, all those bruises. The blank, sunken, haunted eyes. The smell of ozone and blood hung faintly in my nostrils.

Cass knelt down. Murmuring, “Stephen. The Rejalk have not interacted with any other race in Thedas, nor even left their wood for over four hundred years. Yet she, for whatever reason, left. Upon stepping foot in the outside world, her entire life goes up in flame. Her entire clan is killed, she is captured and tortured by a band of Qunari loyal to Corypheus determined to find the rest of her people. No one knows for sure how long she was there before the Inquisition rescued her.”

Cass continued, softer, “And after her rescue, she is thrust into a new world, full of new people, new places, with strange habits and customs that she might not fully understand. I believe it is too difficult for her to feel this out of place. Fighting is part of who she was. Allow her to regain this.”

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “All right. Fine. I’ll talk to Cullen. But I want you with her, first. I know you won’t hold back, but you will keep her from overextending herself?”

Cass nodded. “Of course.”

She rose, and I with her. We left the gardens, and headed back towards the main street. I nudged her gently with my elbow. “She came to you, eh? Sounds like you’re moving up on that list.”

Cass rolled her eyes. “That list is pure speculation, and most likely a pile of lies. Everyone knows that kitchen boy, Threin is her favorite.”

I laughed, the sound hanging in the golden air around us.

*****************************************

The next morning found almost everyone in the inner circle at, or at least in good viewing range of, the training grounds. Sera waved cheerfully from her perch on the roof of a nearby building.

Other citizens of Haven had gathered too, some because they wanted to see the fight, others because no one had never seen a Rejalk’s changeling form before, and all because they were curious.

Cullen stood beside me, steaming silently. While I respected his opinion on the matter (that Clara should not pick up the proverbial blade, because how were we to know the consequences on her psyche?), my mind was made up on the matter.

“Cheer up, Curly, she’ll be fine.” Varric had the utmost confidence in the little changeling, and was by far the calmest about today. “Princess can handle herself.”

Cullen replied curtly, “You know this for a fact?” He huffed. “I have other soldiers to attend to.” He stomped off to a group of older recruits that could withstand his stormy mood. I noted, however, that he kept himself facing where we were awaiting Cassandra and Clara.

When they arrived, Cass’s eyebrows dew together at the sight of the crowd.

I shrugged, and when they were closer I offered, “I can make them leave, if you wish.”

Clara shook her head. “I have been watched by more.”

Leaving me to wonder at her statements meaning, she turned away, beginning a breathing exercise. She and Cass began to stretch together, breathing deeply.

Soft footsteps alerted me to another presence by my side, and Varric grunted a greeting to the newcomer. “Creamsicle, how are ya?”

Krem groaned in irritation. “Would you give that nickname up? For the love of the Maker, pick something else!”

Varric grinned. “I do have something else in mind, but it isn’t fit to be heard by children.” He motioned to me and I blanched.

“I’m twenty and four, Varric.”

Varric grinned wider. “If it weren’t for Princess, you’d be the youngest of the whole outfit. Makes you a kid to the rest of us, Herald or not.”

I channeled my inner Cassandra, rolling my eyes heavily. “Ugh.”

After a brief silence, Krem asked quietly, “Do you think this is a good idea, your worship?”

I took a deep breath, sending a prayer to whatever god decided to listen. “We’ll have to see.”

They had finished stretching and stood about ten paces apart. For a moment, the sounds of the nearby fighting, children’s laughter, and the calls of the merchants seemed to pause.

Clara rose onto the balls of her feet.

My muscles tightened.

Cass lifted her sword and charged.

In that bare, screeching moment, I feared Clara would freeze and Cass would ram through her.

Clara didn’t freeze. Her eyes flashed an icy blue, the tips of her ears lengthening and sharpening, claws and fangs dropping and extending, limbs groaning into different, sharper and more agile forms with joints shifting to accommodate the changes.

She looked like a feral prairie cat, especially with her mane of fiery gold a halo around her face. She crouched, ready to spring.

Cass reached her, and in a flurry of graceful movement, Clara blocked the sword with a forearm, ripped away the shield with her other hand, and jumped up and over Cass, keeping a hold on the weapon hand so she twisted it behind Cass’ back.

Clara’s fingers slipped through the crack in the side of Cassandra’s breast plate, yanking to the side to flip Cass onto her back, while she used her control of the sword hand to fling the weapon away. Cass landed heavily, and Clara dropped down immediately, shins trapping legs, hands trapping arms, and fangs poised elegantly above the vulnerable neck of her prey.

She halted abruptly, and Cass remained still.

The smell of burned flesh rose in the air from where Clara’s skin touched the iron of the armor. I mentally reminded myself to stop by the apothecary to stock up on burn poultice. Clara didn’t burn at exposure to all metals, just iron and silver. Unfortunately, iron was the metal most commonly used for armor and weapons, which would make outfitting her difficult in the future. I had a feeling we would need to.

The fighting behind us had lagged, but the other sounds of the courtyard had remained. I grinned at the grudgingly impressed faces in the crowd. Everyone knew that the Seeker was highly skilled in combat, and the princess had taken her down in a matter of seconds.

Cass said something, to which the petite changeling leant back and beamed. They rose, brushing themselves off and returning to previous positions. People began to file away as Clara walked Cass through every step of her defense, taking care not to touch her skin to the metal.

Varric laughed, voice heavy with pride. “Atta girl, Lioness.”

I cocked a brow at him. “Lioness?”

Varric had previously just called her Princess, like everyone else, claiming nothing else fit quite right.

Varric nodded. “Fits, right?”

I turned to Krem, who was grinning just as wide, nodding his agreement.

I turned back, noting again the fiery mane of red-gold hair, the prairie cat form that was shrinking away as Clara changed back.

“Surprisingly, yeah. It does.”

*****************************************

The first time Clara heard someone call her Lioness (which was also the first time she said more than five words at a time), she fell out of her chair in shock. She laid on the floor of the tavern for a moment, then gathered herself up daintily, and sat back down.

She said very quietly, “Among my people, you must take on the shape of that whichever animal pleases you. There are some animals, however, that are off limits because they are reserved for the royal family. The lioness is for the Princess.”

Her voice was soft, clear, and higher in pitch than expected, and her words held a strange musical quality. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I was four and ten when I killed my lioness.”

Her eyes rose, but dropped quickly. “It is, well. It was an endearment that…”

She took a quick breath. “No one has called me that in a very long time.”

Varric offered, “We can stop.”

Clara shook her head violently. “It is…pleasant.”

Sera snorted, breaking the tension. “Don’t you have any good stories? Not everything has to be all gloomy!”

Clara grinned.

The Bull started some sort of weird argument with Sera, the moment gone, but definitely not forgotten.

*****************************************

The changes happened much quicker after that. She smiled more, her steps were lighter, almost dance like. She started to laugh, quiet and soft.

It was like she started to glow. Every now and then, someone would turn to watch her pass on the street, as she pirouetted away from beating the shit out of the soldiers.

They had finally found a balanced offensive that was enough to slow her with, but not completely overwhelm her. Two men, armed to the teeth with steel weapons was enough to make Clara work for a victory, especially since they had begun her introduction into modern warfare, starting with armor.

Their first attempt at outfitting her with a field kit had been a disastrous mess, because when Cullen sent her down to the quartermaster, word somehow escaped the quartermaster that iron and silver burned Clara’s skin.

Clara had insisted on going by herself, so she was alone when the quartermaster had thrown some chainmail on her without a second thought. The girl had screamed and started hissing, light puffs of smoke rising off of her skin where the cold metal touched and burned her.

Despite Clara’s assurance that even though it wasn’t his fault and he was forgiven, Cullen still counted himself responsible. He had locked himself in his study for two whole days, refusing to see anyone, before I dragged him out by that ridiculous fur coat of his, threatening its destruction.

Thick leather worked much better for Clara’s needs, not to mention protected her from unnecessary contact with metals, but it restricted her movements.

Some days were not as good as others, especially after the attack on Haven, and she had a night terror the night of her fight with Cass that sent her sprinting into the Seeker’s rooms, completely distraught.

During my periods of time away, Leliana kept me up to date with her current state of being.

Her eyes had deep bruise-like marks under them for a while after the attack on Haven, and the night terrors returned with a vengeance, when before, they had been getting better. After a week, Cole took it upon himself to stay near her chambers, listening to the dreams, and trying desperately to turn the horrors into something better. When he could not, he fetched someone, and it differed almost every time. Cole refused to explain why he picked who he did, but everyone took turns and didn’t argue.

Solas always seemed to know on the nights when the dreams would require him, and he would simply conduct his Fade traveling from Clara’s rooms, her head firmly in his lap.

All of them were losing sleep, and The Iron Bull was the one who found a better solution, when he suggested Clara move into the bunkhouse with the Chargers. Clara slept much better with Krem at her back and Skinner at her front. The Chargers were skeptical at first, but doubts faded as she started sleeping much more soundly.

Krem would probably always complain that he never got any privacy anymore. “She’s like a vine, you wake up ‘cos there’s somethin’ sharp pokin’ you, and it’s her elbow in your thigh ‘cos she decided to ignore the concept of personal space.”

For all his grumbling, along with the rest of the Chargers’, they never told her no. Skinner wouldn’t let her cuddle, but she would give her a hand to hold on to, if she needed it. And Clara always came and got whoever she needed if the Chargers weren’t enough to keep the dreams at bay.

No matter how bad the terrors were the night before, however, Clara always got up and trained. She was a terrible shot with a bow, so they gave up on long distance fighting completely and moved on to working on her swordplay with Cullen and Cassandra. She could handle steel, especially if she wore gloves, so the sword was added to her field kit.

She seemed determined to fight against the memories, the dreams, and the effect they had on her. And slowly, we got to watch our little lioness recover.

*****************************************

Soon after the two month mark after she started training with the other soldiers, she trotted up next to me, and asked to join me on my next excursion outside Skyhold.

I started to tell her no, but she continued quietly, “I think I’m ready to see more of the world.”

Clara still wasn’t much for talking unless the mood took her, and her voice still took me a little by surprise; the lilting cadence of it coupled with a whisper of the silent music that guided her steps.

And she was young. To us, anyway, at barely over twenty years, and too curious and trusting for her own good. Even after her captivity, she still chose to see the best in people.

She had won the affections of a particularly irritable and asinine hart in the stables by visiting with a treat daily, crooning softly in her harsh native tongue. She had also won Dennet’s stamp of approval along the way, as he just saw a slip of a girl who loved animals and could be trusted around them.

I sighed, knowing that if I told her no now, it would only mean a stern talking to from Cassandra and Sera, no matter how much Cullen and Dorian would back me up. I ran a hand over my face. “Go gather your kit, I’m heading out in the morning with Cole, Dorian, and Sera.”

Maker help me. She ran off, beaming, and I braced myself for the storm of concern that would be Cullen, Dorian, and Josephine.

*****************************************

In truth, later I was glad of her coming along, for Sera was much more comfortable around Cole with Clara as a buffer, so bed downs were much calmer without the tension between the Red Jenny and the spirit.

A week after leaving Haven, as we neared Redcliffe, we came across a glen with a small spring, and stopped to let the mounts rest and drink.

Sera and Clara were keeping a mostly one-sided conversation about Rejalk culture. Clara was in a particularly good mood, evidenced by her ability to say more words now than a cumulative of before.

Clara patted her stag, Reyvr, on his flank as Sera stepped off her horse. Sera posed her next question with a bored curiosity, “So if it’s so ingrained in you people to sing and dance and shit, how come we’ve never seen you do either?”

Clara lowered her eyes, watching Reyvr drink. “It is a thing for clans. I would not presume…” She stopped talking, running a hand through her hair uncomfortably.

Sera sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “C’mon. We might not be your clan or whatever, but it’s different with us people! We don’ expect anything ridiculous like a blood oath or a pledge of allegiance or nothin just ‘cos you did a jig for us.”

Sera leaned towards her, teasing, “’Sides. You owe me a song.”

Clara spun to face Sera, cheeks pinking. “That was not a sanctioned bet!”

Sera waggled her eyebrows. “Come on, put up or shut up, Lioness.”

Clara huffed, rolling her eyes skyward. She bowed her head for a moment, then hummed something to herself very faintly. She lifted her head and leant against her hart.

“ _Sera was never an agreeable girl, her tongue told tales of rebellion  
__But she was so fast and quick with her bow, no one quite knew where she came from._  

 _Sera was never quite the quietest girl, her attacks are loud and they’re joyful  
__But she knew the ways of nobler men, and she knew how to enrage them._  

 _She would always like to say, 'Why change the past when you can own this day?'  
__Today she will fight to keep her way, she’s a rouge and a thief and she’ll tempt your fate._  

 _She would always like to say, 'Why change the past when you can own this day?'  
__Today she will fight to keep her way, she’s a rouge and a thief and she’ll tempt your fate._  

 _Sera was never quite the wealthiest girl, some say she lives in a tavern  
__But she was so sharp and quick with her bow, arrows strike like a dragon._  

 _Sera was never quite the gentlest girl, her eyes are sharp like a razor  
__But she knew the ways of commoner men, and she knew just how to use them._  

 _She would always like to say, 'Why change the past when you can own this day?'  
__Today she will fight to keep her way, she’s a rouge and a thief and she’ll tempt your fate._  

 _She would always like to say, 'Why change the past when you can own this day?'  
_ _Today she will fight to keep her way, she’s a rouge and a thief and she’ll tempt your fate.”_

We all stood stock still for a moment, Clara’s soft and ethereal soprano fresh in its imprint on the world.

Sera snorted inelegantly, saying, “You’ve had how long now and that’s what you came up with? ‘F I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were making a pass at me.”


	2. Fall Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Magister Pavus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbeta-d. WARNING: Depictions of Graphic Violence, and the results thereof.

When I told Dorian that we were going to Redcliffe at his father’s request to meet a House Pavus family retainer, his response hadn’t been very gracious. He’d been angry, much angrier than I anticipated. Dorian had never spoken ill of his family, per se, but the set of his jaw when the subject came up was enough to discourage people from bringing it up.

His voice, though. When he replied, “If it’s a trap, we’ll get out and kill everyone. You’re good at that.” He was frigid, a sneer like I’d never seen before on his face. In that moment I could see more behind the spoiled rich boy who’d grown up used to luxury, and very used to taking what he needed. I knew Dorian’s kind. The kind that hid behind snotty smirks and biting wit, hiding the kind of hurts that were truly grievous.

He was quiet the whole way to Redcliffe, a permanent frown on his face.

Sera tried to break him out of it, and when his gloom didn’t lift she, well. She pouted.

Cole was agitated by the tension, his hands twisting around and around, fingers worrying at the skin of his knuckles. He was biting his lips together to keep Dorian’s thoughts from pouring out of his mouth.

Clara didn’t know what was going on, exactly. She just knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

And I was worried. I knew Dorian had left Tevinter for a reason, possibly many reasons, and now I was worried about what those reasons were.

Dorian and I were going to the meeting place, a tavern, by ourselves. As we left the others at a nearby inn, Sera offered in a forced bravado, “We’ll be ready to kick some arse ‘f they try ‘n take ya.”

I really, really hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

************************************

We entered the tavern, a blast of cold air following us in. The entire place was dark save a fire in the middle of the main room, not to mention empty, and I sighed. This was not going to go well at all now, was it?

Dorian thought the same. “Uh-oh, nobody’s here. This doesn’t bode well.”

There was a shuffling on the stairs to our left, and I turned slowly, seeing an older man with dark hair, tanned skin, and tired blue eyes. All features that resembled Dorian. This was really not going to go well.

The man spoke, his accented voice grave. “Dorian.”

Dorian hardened, turning towards the other man, saying coolly, “Father.”

A part of me was surprised to see his father, but a bigger part was glad of it. I hoped they could reconcile, or at least try to. I hated seeing families torn apart, and Dorian had made it clear that family was something he wanted. Whether or not that could include his father was yet to be seen.

No matter my hopeful outlook, I was not going to leave Dorian and his father alone.

Dorian scoffed, cocking his head. “So the whole story about the ‘Family Retainer’ was just, what? A smoke screen?”

Magister Pavus came forward, closer into the light of the fire, throwing his aged features into sharper relief. “Then you were told.” He turned to me, saying, “I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved.”

Dorian sneered. “Of course not. Magister Pavus couldn’t come to Skyhold and be seen talking to the dread Inquisitor. What would people think?” Dorian stepped closer, anger beginning to color his words. “What is ‘this’ exactly, Father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?”

I was steadily losing hope for any kind of reconciliation.

Magister Pavus sighed, his eyes turning to me. “This is how it has always been.”

I wanted to ask him why he thought talking to me would help anything, but I said instead, “You went through all of this to get Dorian here. Talk to him.”

Dorian spoke again, voice thick with affected nonchalance. “Yes, Father. Talk to me. Let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.”

Magister Pavus tried to placate him a little, saying, “Dorian, there’s no need to-”

Dorian ignored his father, turning to me and saying icily, “I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.”

I tried desperately not to think of what that meant, at the moment, needing a better grip on the situation. I asked, “That’s a big concern in Tevinter, then?”

Dorian’s sneer returned. “Only if you’re trying to live up to an impossible standard. Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage, the perfect body, the perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means that every perceived flaw is deviant and shameful.” He turned back to his father, adding cruelly, “It must be hidden.”

In truth, I couldn’t understand exactly what the problem was, exactly. Was it just that Dorian was a homosexual? A part of me was jumping up and down at the need for confirmation of his sexuality. Not feeling particularly proud of myself, I asked, “I’ll need you to explain that.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, saying angrily, “Did I stutter? Men, and the company thereof. As in sex. Surely you’ve heard of it?”

Despite the tension of the setting, I couldn’t resist falling into the cadence of our usual banter, and replied, “More than heard of it, actually.”

Dorian placed a hand across his chest, feigning shock. “No! The Herald of Andraste! I am shocked and scandalized!”

I almost smiled. “Such sarcasm.”

Dorian dropped his hand, replying, “You’re not exactly subtle, oh Lord Inquisitor.”

Magister Pavus shook his head, saying quietly, “I should have known that’s what this was about.”

Dorian spun to face his father again, stepping between him and I. “No. You don’t get to make those assumptions. You know nothing about the Inquisitor.”

Magister Pavus’ expression was pained, and I saw beneath the veneer of the pampered elitist. Here was a man who was trying to make whatever he had done wrong right, and had no idea how to go about it. “This is not what I wanted.”

Dorian shook his head. “I’m never what you wanted, Father. Or had you forgotten?”

I was trying to understand what they weren’t saying, something I’d never been good at, and so I had to ask. “So that’s what all this is about? Who you sleep with?”

Dorian answered me. “That’s not _all_ it’s about.”

Magister Pavus began to plead. “Dorian, please. If you’ll only listen to me.”

Dorian laughed, an ugly sound of disbelief. “Why? So you can spout more convenient lies?” Before, Dorian had kept his emotions rather in check, but here, his control wavered. He stepped closer to his father and pointed at him, saying forcefully, “He taught me to hate blood magic. ‘The resort of the weak mind.’ Those are _his_ words.”

Dorian spread his hands out, asking his father, “But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?” Dorian let out a choked sound. “You tried to change me.”

Magister Pavus reached out for his son. “I only wanted what was best for you!”

This was, very clearly, the wrong thing to say. Dorian had lost all control over his emotions now, replying angrily, “You wanted what was best for _you!_ For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!”

Dorian turned away, breathing heavily.

Magister Pavus was frozen in place, and I was stunned. Blood magic was dangerous in the best of times, but what Dorian was hinting at? It was unprecedented.

The mind was a delicate place. In my time in my Circle, there had been a few who liked to theorize what magic could possibly do, but all were under the general consensus that the mind was too dangerous an undertaking. The consequences if one failed could be severe.

I considered taking Dorian away, but with one look at his father, I knew I couldn’t. This man only had one son, and while he was a complete idiot and a fucking asshole, he obviously loved his son. Maybe there was hope. Maybe he could learn. And as long as Dorian remained with us as it happened, I knew we could keep him safe from the destruction of Tevinter’s ‘standards’.

I approached Dorian, saying quietly, “Don’t leave it like this, Dorian. You’ll never forgive yourself.”

This was also true, because I knew how he worked. He still loved his father, as hurt as he was. He wouldn’t let this encounter go if we left now.

Dorian turned back to his father. “Tell me why you came.”

Magister Pavus took a deep breath. “If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition…”

I almost hit him. I had handed him an opportunity on a silver platter, and he decided to, yet again, belittle something Dorian cared about? Idiot.

Dorian seemed to think so too. “You didn’t. I joined the Inquisition because it’s the right thing to do.”

Dorian stepped away, saying wearily, “Once, I had a father who would have known that.”

He began to walk away.

Magister Pavus said softly, “Once I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed.” The Magister kept guarded eyes on his son.

Dorian looked back.

Magister Pavus continued, “I only wanted to talk to him. To hear his voice again. To ask him…”

He took a deep breath, the guard finally dropping, showing a desperate and sad man who just missed his son. “To ask him to forgive me.”

Dorian looked a little shocked. He looked at me for a cue, and I jerked my head at his father.

Dorian approached his father again, and I said softly, “I’ll be outside.”

***********************************

Exactly after stepping outside, I tripped over something, almost falling flat on my face. Looking down, I saw I had tripped over Clara, who was sitting on the ground, legs stretched out.

She grinned apologetically.

I sighed. “How long have you been there?”

Sera’s head poked down from the overhanging above the entryway, and if I had not been used to such antics, it would have startled me. Damned elf with her affinity for high places.

Sera ginned at me. “Not long, yeah? Figured we should be close by, ‘n case ya needed us.”

I held out a hand to Clara, helping her up. “Where’s Cole?”

“Here.” The spirit appeared just as suddenly as the other two, materializing next to Clara. “Relief. Not over yet, but better than before.”

Clara smiled at him, hooking an arm through one of his.

Sera hopped down from the roof. Landing nimbly, she jerked a thumb at the door. “Right, so no one’s gonna die?”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t look that way.”

Cole cocked his head curiously. “Not quite happy, but content. Hopeful, but I shouldn’t be, might not want me, after all.”

I tried to keep my face blank. “Thoughts are a persons’ private property, Cole.”

Cole nodded. “Sorry.”

I clapped a hand to his shoulder, saying, "Come, let's give them a little privacy."

Sera scrunched up her face, saying, "Lets' not go too far, yeah? I'd fancy a drink."

************************************

Dorian was quiet on the way back to Skyhold, although not in a bad way. Just, contemplative.

We were about a three hours ride from Skyhold when we came upon a group of bandits along the road.

One moment we were riding along, Sera giggling at some joke she’d just made, the next, Clara was snarling and shifting and leaping off Reyvr.

Six men leapt out of the woods, cries rising in the air. As the rest of us drew weapons, Clara tackled a man to the ground and slashed his throat. The rest of us quickly regrouped, forming a circle with our backs to each other, facing our attackers.

Four men charged at us while another scrambled up into the trees, though one bandit faltered when he saw the body of his comrade. Clara snatched that man by the scruff of his cowl, yanking him back and snarling in his face. I heard him scream as I locked onto my own target.

Dorian and I took on the mage, who judging by his poorly formed spells, was either very young, very untrained, or both. The mage did have a talent for deflection spells, which kept us busy until we could finally overwhelm him.

There was also a man with a two-handed sword, a dwarf wielding a hammer worthy of The Bull, and an archer, the one who had climbed up into the trees above us.

Cole eliminated the dwarf, utilizing his disappearing ability to confuse his target and surprise him with a knife through the heart.

Sera had trouble firing arrows with so many people so close to her, and was forced to use her bow to beat her attacker. She cracked the man across the face, his head snapping to the side. He stumbled, stunned. It was enough for Sera to rear back and fire an arrow through his eye.

Clara had ripped the bandit’s head clean off his shoulders, and now only the archer in the trees was left. Sera aimed and fired, the arrow hitting the bandit in the leg and he fell from the trees.

The other archer fired too. Clara shoved Cole down, but she was a little too late, and the arrow rammed through the spirit’s upper arm. She screamed in anger, and pounced on the bandit archer where he had fallen.

She snarled above him, and the archer yelled in surprise, “You-you unholy beast!”

There was something about the look in her eyes as she leaned over the bandit that sent a chill down my spine. “Clara, wait!”

Clara ripped out his throat with her fangs, blood and gore splashing all over her.

It all ended like a hammer coming down on hot metal. An echoing clang that rang in your ears for several moments after, not letting you relax until you knew for sure nothing else was coming. The others, save Cole, were breathing heavily, eyes all locked on Clara and the man beneath her.

The fighting was over. Sera went around, gathering up the spent arrows to see if they could be used again. Dorian said softly, “I’ll attend to Cole.”

I nodded. Clara was still crouched over the archer, her shoulders shaking. I came closer, making my footsteps extra loud to ensure she heard me. I walked around her in a wide circle, coming into her line of sight. She didn’t look at me.

Blood dripped down from her fangs and her chin. The man’s throat was almost completely destroyed, and he stared up at Clara in death, eyes wide with fear.

I shuffled closer to her, and knelt in front of her, trying for eye contact. She was breathing sharply, chest heaving. I said softly, “Clara.”

She didn’t seem to hear me, she didn’t seem to see me at all. Her eyes were locked on the dead man, whose eyes were frozen in terror.

I tried again, louder. “Clara.”

When she still didn’t respond, I said, “Lioness.”

She jerked back, flinching away from the word as if it were a physical blow. Her eyes finally found mine, wide and blank.

I reached out a hand. “Come here, little one.”

I knew I should probably be disgusted, because she had just ripped out a man’s throat with her teeth. Literally. But I couldn’t help but look at it through her eyes. He had hurt someone she cared about, someone who had cared for her. She just did what needed to be done.

Her eyes filled with tears, and the changeling form started to melt away. With a sob, she threw herself into my lap, her arms winding around my next, face firmly planted in my neck. She started sobbing in earnest, the ugly and desperate cries of someone who just couldn’t help themselves. She wasn’t having a panic attack, and I was immensely grateful for it. I rubbed her back firmly with one hand, keeping the other arm tight against her lower back.

She was sobbing in Rejalkian, and I had never wished more that I could understand her.

I regretted bringing her along. She wasn’t ready to do this. She wasn’t healed enough. This was all my fault. She was so very young, and so very new to this kind of war. There were no games, here.

Dorian used magic to drag the bodies away from us as Clara’s sobs slowed.

Just as my legs began to start cramping up from their weird position, Clara tightened her grip on my neck. I sighed, gathering her tight, and standing. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I was reminded of Krem’s claim that she was a vine.

Dorian motioned for me to follow him, mouthing, “River.”

She had quieted in my arms, but she was still quaking. When we reached the water, I turned my head and murmured, “I’m going to clean you up, now. Ok?”

She nodded, leaning back. I sat her down on the bank, and Dorian handed me a rag. I nodded my thanks, dropping down next to her. She didn’t look at me as I wet the cloth and began wiping her face clean of tears, blood, and snot.

Snot was the sort of thing that happened when you ugly-cried.

When she was as clean as I could get her, I asked her, “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded, slowly. I held out a hand, but she shied away from it and wobbled to her feet on her own.

She started off towards the mounts, arms tucked in tight against her body.

I fell in step with Dorian behind her. “How’s Cole?”

Dorian sighed. “Fine. Wound was clean. They might have used a poison, but we’ll be back to Skyhold before long, so the healers there can keep an eye on him.” Dorian lowered his voice. “I’m more concerned about Clara.”

I nodded. “Me as well.”

We were silent until we reached the mounts, Sera and Cole already up in their saddles. Reyvr snorted at his rider, and stamped his feet impatiently. Clara laid a hand on him, and swung up on his back.

I followed suit, moving to the front of the line. “Let’s move out.”

*************************************

We came through the gates an hour off schedule, Leliana and Cullen waiting for us on the other side. Both looked relieved to see us, and started walking towards us as we swung down from our mounts.

I turned to Dorian. “Take Cole to the healers, tell them to watch for poison. Sera,” I turned around, but the elf was already gone, so I sighed. “Clara, stay with me, we’ll take the mounts to Dennet.”

Dorian and Cole handed off their reins, and headed towards the castle.

Clara came closer to me, and I heard both Leliana and Cullen curse when they saw us. I was very suddenly aware of the fact that Clara was covered in blood, as was I. Cullen was in front of Clara in an instant, reaching for her. “Makers breath, what happened?”

Clara flinched away, and Cullen looked blindsided. I felt similarly. Every single time one of us had reached for her before, it had been welcomed with open arms. Clara craved physical contact, or at least she had.

Clara refused to meet anyone’s eyes, although she did tuck herself further into Reyvr, trying to make herself smaller.

Leliana repeated, “What happened?”

I clicked my tongue at the mounts, keeping them moving forward. “Not now, Leliana. Delicate matter.”

Cullen opened his mouth, but closed it almost immediately. He fell into step next to me, his mouth set in the way it always was when he completely disagreed with someone. “You are planning on telling us what happened, correct?”

My temper got the better of me, and I snapped, “No, I was planning on telling you that Cole has an arrow sticking out of his arm for no reason, and Clara’s just fallen in some paint.”

Leliana intervened smoothly. “This is not the place.” She called over Cullen’s page. “Take these mounts to the stables, and tell Dennet their owners will not be along today.”

The page nodded, and took the reins.

Leliana waited until he left, then fixed me with a gaze like iron. “Follow me.”

The last thing Clara needed was an interrogation, but I didn’t want to argue with the spymaster.

We walked quickly through the castle, finally filing into the War Room, where Josephine was waiting for us. She looked up upon our entry, smiling. “There you are, I was beginning to-”

Her eyes widened as they fell on the blood on me, and she cried out when she saw Clara. She started forward. “Clara, dear, are you alright?”

Clara, just like before, shied away, and I noticed she was clenching her hands into fists, white-knuckled. She continued to step away from Josie until her back hit the wall. She jerked away from the wall, and started breathing faster, eyes turning wild. She looked like a frightened kitten that had been cornered, and I wouldn’t be concerned, had this kitten not ripped out a man’s throat four hours ago.

I reached out, forgetting that I was not in Clara’s line of sight. “Josie-”

Clara jumped, hissing and swiping out in self-defense.

I cried out when her claws sliced through my skin. It wasn’t deep, but there was blood, and I didn’t want Clara to focus on that. I jerked my hand out of sight, and I felt the others start to back away, slowly. They were giving s room, trying, belatedly, not to overwhelm her.

Clara was staring at her hand, watching my blood drip down her claws.

I didn’t like the blankness I saw in her eyes, not one bit. “Clara, it’s ok. It was an accident. I shouldn’t have scared you like that.”

She was breathing heavily, and I knew what the start of a panic attack looked like with her now. From previous experience, this one coming would be very, very bad. She didn’t even look at me, she just turned and ran out of the room.

I started after her, but Leliana grabbed my arm. “No, stay. Give her space. One of my people will follow her. She will be fine. You, however, have some explaining to do.”

Josephine said shakily, “She’s never been like that before.”

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “We came across some bandits a few hours ago, no real problem. Clara’d killed two of them, and we’d taken out all but an archer in the trees. Somehow, Clara saw the arrow coming and tried to knock Cole out of the way, but he still got hit in the arm. Sera shot the archer down, and Clara pounced on him.”

I leaned back against the cool stone walls, keeping my eyes on the floor. “She ripped his throat out with her teeth. I mean, I get it, her claws and fangs are the only weapons she’s ever used before she joined us, and he shot Cole. But after, she just…sat there looking at him.” I lifted my eyes. All three of my advisors had identical looks of deep concern. I was glad of it, and very glad that they didn’t seem disgusted or put off. Now wasn’t the time to deal with that.

I continued, “Anyway, when I finally got her to look at me, she climbed in my lap and cried for a good quarter hour, and then I took her to get cleaned off. After that, though, she got really weird and distant, wouldn’t let anyone touch her. And then we came straight here, and you know the rest.”

Leliana looked extremely pissed. “I received no intelligence of nearby bandits. Please excuse me. I have to see to this.”

She stormed out of the room, and I grit my teeth. I had never felt a more genuine hatred than what I felt towards myself. I hadn’t been able to keep Clara safe, and now something was so wrong she wouldn’t let any of us near her. Because I couldn’t do my damn job and keep her safe.

I pushed off the wall. “I think I should go see Cole.”

I left without waiting for a response, shoving the doors open and slamming them shut behind me.

***********************************

Two hours later, a page found me in the stables with my horse, Farah. She bowed, saying, “Inquisitor, pardon me for intruding. I have a report for you.”

She handed me the scroll, then stood at attention, awaiting instructions.

I unrolled it and noticed from the seal it was a personal note from Leliana. It read,   
“Inquisitor,

We can not find Clara anywhere. My people lost her somewhere in the gardens. Come see me at once.

-Leliana”

I cursed spectacularly in Common, Tevinter, and Qun with another few in Antivan. The page looked on, calm as could be.

I growled, “You understand the concept of an inner circle, yes?”

The page nodded. “Yes, ser.”

I rerolled the scroll primly. “And you understand who is in mine?”

The page nodded again, albeit cautiously. “Yes, ser.”

“Wonderful.” I looked up. “I want you to inform my inner circle, save Spymaster Leliana and Princess Clara, that their presence is required in the War Room. And don’t bother with Warden Blackwall, I will tell him myself. That will be all.”

The page bowed again. “Ser.” She hurried out of the stables, intent on her task.

Blackwall leaned over the railing of the upper level. “What’s going on, Inquisitor?”

I stepped out of Farah’s stall, turning to lock the gate with extreme precision. “Clara’s missing.”

Blackwall was down in seconds. “Missing? How?”

I glared at him. “Does it look like I know? All I am aware of is that if something has happened to her-”

I choked on the words, feeling anger spiral up my insides, clawing its way up. My fingers sparked and I tried to regain control.

Blackwall took a deep breath. “I will be in the War Room.”

I nodded. “See that you are.”

He gave me a strange look, and I tried to breathe, but all I could do was think about how I didn’t go after her, and I didn’t protect her when I should have. I had failed.

“Bullshit.”

I started, not knowing Dorian had been behind me. I realized I must have been speaking aloud, or maybe Dorian wasn’t as good about keeping to his own mind as he claimed.

Dorian stepped closer, saying lowly, “I know that look, that’s the look you had after Haven, that’s the look you wore for an entire month while you groveled before the survivors and while you refused to sleep.”

He shook his head. “Clara missing is not your fault. Do you understand me?”

I threw my hands up in the air. “How is this not my fault? I never should have let her come along, I knew she wasn’t ready to leave Skyhold!”

Dorian came closer, hissing, “Just because you think you know best doesn’t mean you actually do. She was ready to leave Skyhold, she wasn’t ready to kill her first man.”

I started to argue, “That wasn’t her first time killing a man, Dorian-” But it was, wasn’t it? She hadn’t said anything about killing people, as her people were few, and killing them would just result in fewer. She had said so. She had killed animals before, this we knew.

I dropped down to the ground, my head falling into my hands. “ _Fasta vaas._ ” She’d never killed a person before. Barely twenty years old, and then up and killed three people on the same day.

Dorian slid down the wall to sit next to me. “I will say this again. It was not your fault. It’s not your job to know everything about everyone.”

I answered in a choked voice. “I should have known about that. I should know everything about the people I risk. I should have- _Maker._ ”

Dorian sighed. “She wanted to go with us. We can’t decide what she is and is not ready for, that wouldn’t be right. She’s an adult, and she’s quite capable of making her own choices.”

He looked at me intently, then asked, “There’s no way for me to make you understand this, is there?” He motioned to himself and asked, “Do you think I would willingly sit in who knows what for someone who was to blame for harming a person I cared about?”

I felt tears threaten. “If something’s happened to her, Dorian, I don’t…I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Dorian scoffed. “Course you know. You’ll make it better. That’s what you _do_ , you blasted hero.”

I leaned my head back, turning to look at him. I traced his profile with my eyes, wondering if he knew he was a hero, too. He always did things like this, keeping me out of my head, keeping me grounded. Snobbish asshole, or not, I was so far gone on this man it was sad. My fingers twitched, wanting to reach for him, but I resisted the urge. Now was not the time.

Dorian looked at me, eyes searching. “I’m going to go catch up with that page, so she can tell me to go to the War Room. You go do...whatever it is that you were going to do before we had this chat.”

I nodded. We stood, and as he turned away, I called softly, “Thank you, Dorian.”

He turned around, walking backwards, a roguish grin on his face. “Anytime. Well, not really. I don’t want to sit on the stable floor ever again.”

He gave me a chipper wave, then rounded the corner and disappeared.

I took a deep breath, and headed for Leliana’s rotunda.

**********************************

Leliana was pacing when I found her, and she didn’t wait for a greeting to start speaking. “I have not heard any more recent news, however, my people are checking for any reports of a girl leaving through any of the gates.”

I shook my head, frowning. “Unlikely. Her hart is still in its stall.” I had checked on my way out of the stables.

Leliana exhaled forcefully. “She has simply vanished into thin air. And the castle’s rooms are very extensive, it would take ages to search the entire thing.”

I cocked my head, asking, “How exactly did she do it? She’s awful at covering her tracks, and your people are, supposedly, the best at uncovering them.”

Leliana glared at me. “Excuse me for not wanting to be the only person in your inner circle not contributing to her education. I taught her a few things here and there, with the intention that she would use them against her enemies, not against us.”

A raven swooped in, cawing at its mistress in victory. Leliana removed the note from its leg and handed it a treat distractedly. She made a sound of relief. “She has not left through any of the main or secondary gates. That does still leave other exits, but this is something.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Maybe we should regroup with the others, one of them might know something. I took the liberty of sending a page to herd them to the War Room.”

Leliana nodded. “I believe that to be the best option.”

She started to climb down the stairs, then paused. Turning to me, she promised, “We will find her, Stephen.”

Feeling a portion of the weight on my shoulders lift off of me, I bowed my head. Leliana and Dorian, as well as the others probably, would help me shoulder this worry. “I know.”

************************************

Walking into the War Room was like walking into a hornets nest after you had hit it with a stick, then insulted the hornet queen.

It was bad.          

Everyone was yelling at each other, and rather than find out what in the world they were arguing about, I put two fingers to my lips and whistled, as loud as I could.

They all quieted down, thankfully, though Sera muttered something nasty about where Vivienne could shove her ‘thoughts on the matter’.

Keeping the attention on me, I explained what Leliana and I knew, and asked, “Does anyone have any other information to share?”

None of them volunteered anything.

I turned to Cole, thankful to see his arm no longer had an arrow sticking out of it. “Can you feel her? At all?”

He fidgeted. “A whirlwind, everything at once, so much, but all I see is red. I made it that way, I created the red, and now everything is wrong and there is a whirlwind, I am a whirlwind and I can’t stop spinning can’t stop spinning I can’t stop the spinning.”

I winced. That sounded like a panic attack, a bad one. I motioned him closer, placing a hand on his un-injured arm to rub a soothing path on it. “Can you feel where she is?”

His hands went about his middle, holding on tight and he bent over, a pained expression on his face. “Can’t face them, can’t do it, don’t want it, I have made them red and all they see will be bone and blood and the red and I am red can’t face them with the red.”

Sera groaned in frustration. “This is ridiculous! Just tell us where she is!”

I gave her a stern look, and she stepped back. “While I agree with you Sera, that might not be the best option.”

Cole was staring blankly at the floor, repeating something in Rejalkian. “ _Trevalk ary est ungren. Trevalk ary est ungren. Trevalk ary est ungren._ ”

I patted him gently, murmuring, “It’s all right Cole, you’re doing great.”

I pulled him up straighter, then asked, “Does she not want us to find her?”

He shook his head.

My heart slammed into my stomach, and Cole moaned.

I sighed. This was going nowhere, and Cole looked positively ill. “Do you feel overwhelmed, Cole?” At his nod, I said, “Alright. That’s perfectly fine. Cole, I want you to go and sit with the bog unicorn for a while, you love the stables. No one will bother you there, alright?”

He nodded again, and vanished, my hands slipping on air.

Everyone was silent, until The Bull asked, “Boss? What now?”

I rubbed at my eyes. “What else? We have to wait her out. At least for a few hours. If she doesn’t turn up by nightfall, we’ll start a search.” I sighed. “I want all of you to act like nothing is wrong. I don’t want anyone thinking she’s done something dangerous and starting a manhunt.”

They nodded, and began to file out one by one. Dorian stepped aside to murmur, “She’ll come talk to someone. She always has before.”

At my nod, he lifted a hand, but dropped it almost immediately, seeming to think better of it. He left, the door swinging shut behind him.

Cullen had not moved, his eyes locked on the table with the map depicting Thedas.

I waited for him to speak.

When he finally did, his voice was much calmer than I thought it would be. “You have no intention of leaving her be, do you?”

I shook my head. “Absolutely not. She may not want company, but she needs it.”

Culled picked up a city marker, turning it over in his hands. “You know where she is.”

I shrugged. “I have a few ideas.”

Cullen set the piece down. He looked up, unapologetic. “I want to know where she is.”

I started forward, anger biting at my insides.

He headed off my words, saying, “What do you think would have happened if I had said something in front of them? All of them would want to go as well, claiming they were the best to deal with this. That’s not what she needs.”

I flapped a hand at him. “Any you know what she needs?”

He stiffened. “I don’t pretend to, no. But I do know that all of us barging in on her in her current state would be detrimental. But I-”

I shook my head. “She killed a person for the very first time today, Cullen. And not just one person, but three. Do you remember what it was like the first time you did it? Because I remember my own.”

I laughed bitterly. “It was with the Inquisition. It was a Templar that was so green it was laughable. He jumped out at us from the trees and I reacted.” I stepped closer. “I remember his face, Cullen. To this day, that child haunts me. All of them do.” I ran a hand over my face. “Take that, and multiply it by three. She’s already been through so much.”

Cullen spat, “Which is why I told you not to let her go with you, she wasn’t ready!”

“That’s not for us to decide! She wanted to see something outside Skyhold’s walls, and we were just going to Redcliffe. I thought the road would be safe enough, so I agreed.” I ground my teeth. “You have no idea how much I regret taking her. But it’s done. So let it go.”

I spread my hands out in front of me. “I’ve never claimed to be omniscient. I don’t always know best. But whether or not I told her no, she would have come with us anyway.”

The tension had drained from the room, both of us spent of our anger, and left with fear and a touch of desperation.

Cullen didn’t have anything to say in reply, except, “I know.”

I stepped back, feeling bone tired. “She’s going to go looking for Cassandra, or maybe The Bull. Perhaps even Blackwall. All have killed multiple times, and Clara knows this.”

Cullen nodded jerkily, rubbing the back of his neck.

We stood there, watching each other. I studied his face, the look in his eyes, the set of his mouth, the way he kept clenching his fists as if to physically restrain himself. The tension in his jaw. The ex-Templar wasn’t just concerned over Clara’s disappearance (as he would be for any he cared about), he was distraught because it was Clara. Suddenly his refusal to share a bed with her turned to different reasons other than propriety.

I said very quietly, “I’m sorry, Cullen.”

He waved a hand at the statement, dismissing it.

I knew what it was like to struggle with the possibility of possessing feelings for someone much too good for you, and even though I thought he and Clara were wonderfully suited, I knew Cullen very well. That was exactly how he would view the situation. No matter that he had changed from his youth, that his opinions and character had improved, no matter that now he worked himself to the bone trying to right past wrongs and improve even more, no matter that he gave his all to every worthy cause, he did not think much of himself at all.

I turned to leave. I had one hand on the door when he spoke again. “Stephen.”

I turned back.

He appeared to be searching for the right words, and I was content to wait. He started, “When she came through the gates, and I saw all that blood...”

He covered his mouth with his hand, and I sighed. “Cullen. I understand.”

He felt lost. I could read it in his face. I knew because it was the same way I felt after a too-close call with Dorian. Cullen cared for Clara. I knew that, I just hadn’t known he cared for her in this fashion. I also knew he would never consider ‘making a move’, either because he would believe her too young, or he himself wouldn’t be capable of any romantic attachment. Probably both.

I ached for him, but there was little I could do, besides shove them in a closet together once Clara was found and had time to bounce back. I filed that idea away, possibly a job for Sera.

Cullen rapped his knuckles against the table, and I told him, “I know we fight, but you must know I consider you my brother. You can always tell me what you think and how you are feeling.”

Cullen gave me a weak grin “I don’t know. What I remember of my brothers involves a lot more beatings.”

I laughed. “You are welcome to join us in the field any time you want, Commander.”

Cullen lifted his hands. “No thank you, my field days have long passed. Besides, I have far too much paperwork. Which, unfortunately, I need to return to.” He strode past, pausing at the door. “Thank you, for listening. I know what happened with Clara is not your fault, and I don’t actually blame you.”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “I know. Come, let’s go get a drink. I daresay we need one.”

*********************************

After buying Cullen a drink, Cullen left for the training fields to check up on his soldiers.

I went to my chambers, keeping an eye out along the way for any of Leliana’s people. I had been hoping to hear something from her, anything really. It was not to be, though, as I arrived in my chambers without seeing anyone in dark robes with shifty, too aware eyes.

I scrubbed a hand through my hair, instantly hating the griminess from the days of travel. I wondered if I had time to bathe before nightfall. The blood on my shoulder had soaked through, and was hardening to a rusty crust, flaking off in a disgusting fashion. I also believed that old bloodstains would be further detrimental to Clara’s mindset should I come across her. I ducked back outside, requesting some bath water from the page stationed outside my door.

There was a knock on my door as I was changing out of my travel clothes, and I groaned. Muttering to myself, “Damn these reports.” It wasn’t even close to nightfall yet, but it was most likely either one of Leliana’s people with a note saying that a search party had been sent out or a meaningless report on today’s flower collecting. I knew it wasn’t the page because no one could walk down to the kitchens and back that fast.

I stomped over to the door, flinging it wide, grumpy, grimy, and uncaring that I was not completely clothed at the time.

I was very aware of the fact I wasn’t wearing anything but light pants when, instead of it being someone with ten more reports for me to read, it was Madame Vivienne. Who, needless to say, carried no reports.

She raised a brow at my state of undress, but didn’t say anything.                                                  

Taken by surprise, I stammered, “Madame Vivienne, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She said coolly, “I’d prefer to have this conversation behind closed doors.”

I stepped back, allowing her to enter. She swept past me, and as I closed the door behind her, she took a seat near the fireplace.

I offered awkwardly, “Should I be dressed for this, or...?”

Vivienne’s gaze was unimpressed. “You’ll do fine, my dear. Please, sit.”

I obeyed, thinking longingly of a time, any time, when Madame de Fer was not looking at me while I was half naked.

Vivienne watched the banked fire for a moment, then arranged herself to face me. “The princess is in my rooms.”

I was glad I was sitting. “Your rooms, Madame?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Is that not what I just said?”

I made an abortive gesture. “Yes, I was just, um. Clarifying.”

She ‘hmmed’. “Well. She is in my rooms, and safe. I knew you would want to be informed.”

I nodded. “Thank you.” She moved to get up, and I held out an arm, though I didn’t dare to touch her. “No, I mean it. Thank you, Vivienne.”

She looked at me for a moment, and said, “It is the first time in a long time I have come across anyone who is any manner of innocent. Strange and savage as she is, the urchin has grown on me. I would thank you not to place her in any immediate danger for some time.”

She rose, brushing out imaginary wrinkles on her clothes. “I will see you at breakfast, my dear. Pleasant dreams.”

She left without waiting for a goodbye.

I dropped my head in my hands, breathing a sigh of relief. Clara was safe. How it happened didn’t matter, strange as it was, only that she was safe.

It did make a little sense, though. Madame Vivienne had been through a lot in her time. No one who survived Orlais for that long, who was that skilled at the Game had become so through luck. She was hard. She was the Iron Lady. And though such metal burned her, Clara needed someone who was made of iron.

There was another knock on the door, this one rushed and sort of frantic.

Krem’s voice came from behind the wood. “Your worship, you in there?”

I jogged over, opening the door. “Yes, hel-Krem?”

He pushed passed me, looking about the room wildly. “Where is she?”

Cursing to myself, I shut the door. The Bull must have decided not to wait until nightfall to start a search party after all. “Krem, please calm down.”

Krem looked at me in shock. “Calm down? Calm down?! Why in the hell should I calm down! Clara is missing! She’s missing and we can’t find her.”

I sighed. “The Bull told you, then?”

Krem looked confused. “What? No, the chief didn’t tell me anything. We made a schedule before she left, that when you got back she was supposed to meet up with the Chargers, almost an hour ago now at the tavern, and she never showed. We went out looking for her, and no one has seen her anywhere.”

My words seemed to sink in finally, and he turned and hissed furiously at me, “Hold on. You knew? You knew she was missing? We should be out looking for her, she could be hurt somewhere and here you are just standing in your underwear-”

Feeling my patience finally run out, I yelled, “Cremisius! Will you shut up and listen!”

He started, and while his mouth fell closed, his hands twitched toward and then away from where I knew he carried knives on his person.

I wanted to hit myself again. One of these days I was going to remember that the people I was around now didn’t respond well to being startled, or I was going to end up with a knife shoved between my ribs. And then I would die because I was an idiot, and then the entire Inquisition would falter because everyone would blame everyone else, and Sera wouldn’t follow anyone else and she didn’t even follow _my_ orders…

I wondered when, exactly, I had become surrounded by such fierce people.

I took a deep breath. “Clara’s not missing anymore. No, you may not go see her, but rest assured she is safe.”

Krem saw past that. “Clara’s not the type to go running off without reason. Is she whole?”

I shrugged, deciding on honesty. “I don’t know. She had a very...difficult day. I wouldn’t be surprised if she comes back to the bunkhouse to sleep with you and the rest of the Chargers tonight.”

My eyes slipped closed. “I mean, in a completely platonic way, of course.”

Krem didn’t even crack a grin. He shifted his footing, looking down at the ground. “Alright then.” He blushed the tiniest amount. “I’m sorry to come barging in like this and then sayin’ that stuff, your worship.”

I waved my hand, dismissing it. “Don’t worry about it, Krem. Don’t make this a habit or anything, though, alright?”

At his nod, I asked, “You this protective of everyone?”

He shook his head. “Just the good ones, your worship.”

I smiled. “Right. Would you tell The Bull she’s safe? I’ll take care of the others once I’ve...you know.” I pointed to my clothes, still crumpled on the floor. “Re-dressed.”

Krem grinned. “I’m sure the ladies wouldn’t mind. Some of the gents, either.”

I glared playfully. “That chief of yours is a nosy busybody.”

Krem laughed, heading for the door. “That’s his job.”

He left with a jaunty wave.

I shook my head, thankful to be alone.

The thought came too soon, for there was another knock on the door.

 I growled, “What could it possibly be now?”

The response came cheerfully, “Report for you, Inquisitor.”

*****************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to get better for our dear princess. Promise!


	3. Quiet Bravery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Redcliffe and Clara's panic attack. Dorian and Stephen finally get some time to talk about everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: I have changed the canon dialogue to personalize my Inquisitor and to fit Stephen's personality. It also took me way too long to upload this. Yikes. Sorry. Oh! I also edited and updated the last chapter.

I was awake before the person at my door even reached for the knob. Taking care to move silently, I slid my hand underneath my pillow, my fingers curling around the knife there. The door opened, and the soft pre-light of dawn spilled inside to highlight a tiny, dainty figure that I knew too well.

Clara leant back against the door, and I shoved the knife further back amongst the pillows, whispering a soft charm to light some of the candles in my room.

Sitting up, I rolled my shoulders and waited for Clara to speak.

Clara’s voice was soft. “I came here to apologize for my behavior today. I know you must be angry at me.”

I frowned, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “I’m not angry at you. I am concerned, but not angry.”

Clara bit her lip, and kept her eyes downward and her voice even as she replied, “Madame Vivienne says that it was cowardly of me to run away. I am just glad I didn’t hurt you.”

My heart broke for this tiny princess, so very young and so very far from home. I couldn’t let her think that her actions of the day previous would have any negative ramifications.

I sighed, and repeated gently, “Clara, I’m fine. You’re the one we’re all worried about. Are you ok?”

She bowed her head for a moment, then said, “I have only killed once before. When I killed my _attaye_ , my spirit animal. I knew, since we are in a war, that eventually I’d have to kill someone. But then yesterday, everything happened so fast, and I was so scared, and then that man shot Cole and I just reacted…”

She trailed off, and I had never regretted any of my decisions more than the one to let her come to Redcliffe with us. “You did what your instincts told you to, I understand, Clara. And you won’t have to worry about going out into the field again.”

That garnered a sharp reaction from her. She shook her head furiously, saying, “No. No, that’s not going to help. I can do war, I’m good at it, I wouldn’t be the _Sadal_ if I wasn’t. I don’t want to be some _shechk_ who can’t bring it upon herself to fight, no, I refuse!”

She was almost yelling now, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m not sad that I protected you, that I protected Cole and Sera and Dorian. I would lay down my life to protect you.”

What was the problem with wanting to protect us? I knew I was missing something big here. “And that’s good?”

She slammed her fist against the door, her pretty face contorting painfully. “No, you don’t understand! With my people, with how I was raised, with who I am, that is not acceptable! I shouldn’t want to sacrifice anything for anyone that is not my clan. I should not want to rip anything limb from limb for daring to harm someone who does not carry the mark of ‘Mine’!”

I had to force myself to keep from reaching for her, determined to let her clear her conscience.

She was almost hyperventilating, and she couldn’t seem to slow down. “I wouldn’t have ripped out a man’s throat because they hurt just anyone. I wouldn’t even have done it if he had hurt someone belonging to another clan of Rejalk, but I did it for Cole, and I would do it for you.”

She looked at me finally, eyes bright and fierce. “I did it because you are my clan now. Even though you don’t carry the mark, everything in me screams clan when you and the others are near. Did you ever wonder why I seek you out when the terrors come? It is because that is what the Rejalk do! We use touch and physical forms of comfort to affirm ourselves, to recognize clan. I was surrounded by the unfamiliar, I was all alone, and I had to see what relationship I had with all of you, what you were to me. And every night, I was accepted as family, I was never turned away, not by anyone.”

Tears ran freely down her face, her eyes now slightly swollen and red. She didn’t seem to care. “You each have saved me in a different way. All of you have taught me things that are incredibly valuable. Like how you don’t have to be the same to be family. And I want a family again.”

She came a step closer, her voice lowering. “Do you know what the terrors are now? I am alone. And then I see someone, anyone, of the people I have grown close to here. They turn to me, and they always say the same thing. ‘Alone. Unwanted. Worthless. You were not enough to save your clan, and you were not enough to save us.’”

She sobbed, and wrapped her arms around herself. Looking away, she whispered, “Then I see my clan, the way I last saw them. Stacked, in a pyre of burning flesh. Smoke rises in the air and I can smell it. I can feel the loss again as clearly as I could the day it happened. A chant rises in the air. ‘Clanless. Alone. Not enough to save them. You kill everything you touch.’”

She motioned to me, a flicker of fire burning in her red-rimmed eyes. “Then the pyre turns to one of you, dead at my feet. And I have to go, have to see that you are alive, that I did not cause more death. That I did not hurt you.”

I was silent.

She wiped angry tears away, her eyes defiant. “I ran today because I hurt you. You, who I consider clan, no matter that you yourself do not consider it so.”

She stopped here, her chest heaving and some of the fire leaving her.

I was suddenly caught in the feeling of how much I loved this girl. She was kind, loving, a bright beautiful thing that shone in the daylight. But she was also flawed, hurting, and she needed, as everyone does. And what Clara needed now was a clan. A clan she could trust, a clan she could love, and a clan that would help her through all of the bad times and the good times ahead. A clan she could truly be a part of. I could help her, where that was concerned.

 

Carefully, I offered, “I am you clan.”

Her face spasmed in aborted hope. “You do not know the weight of those words.”

I shrugged. “Unless it means pledging my allegiance to an army of the undead, I’m pretty sure I can handle it. You are my clan, little one.”

She stood stock still, staring at me intently. Then she lifted her right hand, straightening her thin fingers to their longest extent. She turned the back of her hand to face me, and in the soft light from the candles, I could barely make out the marks of a stylized six pointed star etched in white ink onto the skin there. She said in a much calmer voice, “When I said ‘carry the mark of my clan’, this is what I meant. This a _kavakt_. We use them to recognize clan, as each clan has a different _kavakt_. We use it much like your handshake, upon meeting a stranger it is customary to show your _kavakt_ so you know where the other’s allegiance lies.”

Lifting her hand higher, she continued, “The _kavakt_ on my hand represents the Sun. That was the name of my clan, the _Tak_.”

I stood, and with a glance to confirm its approval, took her fingers in my own, marveling at the precise lines I hadn’t had time to catalogue before. “So if _Tak_ means Sun, what does _Sadal_ mean?”

She considered her words. “The closest word you have to it in meaning would be warrior or princess. The actual word means something between the two.”

I grinned at her, saying, “So you’re a Warrior Princess of the Sun? Fantastic.”

She relaxed her fingers, smiling ever so softly. “I am a _Sadal_ because of my commitment to my people and my aptitude for warfare. I will eventually become Queen and orchestrate the War Games themselves. I am a _Tak_ because that is my clan.”

I reached for her hand to lace my fingers through hers, and with my free hand, wiped away the remnants of tears on her face. “It’s lovely.”

She lifted her eyes to me. “This _kavakt_ is the symbol of my clan, and if you want to be officially recognized as part of the _Tak_ , you would carry this mark on your skin.”

I grinned at her, and tugged her over to sit beside me on the bed. Continuing my study of her white tattoo, I asked, “Sounds good to me. Is there anything else I should know about being in a Rejalk clan?”

 She turned into my side, answering blandly, “Every full moon we give a human sacrifice in praise and honor of the mighty Moon God.”

I turned to look at her sharply, and she grinned cheekily at me. “Sorry, I could not help myself.”

I scoffed. “For a moment there, I thought you were serious. And you wonder why people think you savage.”

She huffed at me, rolling her eyes in a much more relaxed way than she had since almost twenty four hours ago. “We are savage. But we are not exactly the bloodthirsty heretics you deemed us to be four hundred years ago.”

I lifted my hands in a show of surrender. “Understood. In all seriousness, if I do get that slapped on the back of my hand, is there some religion I’m required to believe in?”

Clara seemed surprised by the question. “The _Tak_ do not have religion. We do not worship any of the gods. We do, however, live our lives by three things. Clan, honor, and justice. As long as you take and follow the oath to live by and value those three things, I don’t have a problem with you practicing whatever religion you want.”

I hummed, and decided to ask her straight out. “Why did you come see me tonight?”

She tensed. “I hurt you today. I came to apologize-”

I turned my head, pressing a kiss to her hairline, quieting her. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s over, we are fine.”

She curled tighter into me, forcing me to release her hand and curl an arm around her waist. She insisted quietly, “I should not have run away.”

“Never said it was the best decision, lioness. You just don’t have to feel guilty about today.” I pulled her closer and kissed her forehead again. “I never knew the terrors were of…well.”

She turned her face into my chest.

I raised a hand to card through red-blonde hair, saying softly, “We, and I know I do speak for the rest of our circle, we will always be here for you. You are not clanless, and you are enough. You are our lioness, alright?”

She sighed and turned to curl up on my lap in a sideways hug, slight shoulders relaxing, hands curling against my skin. “Thank you, _treva_.”

I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help asking, “And that means?”

She murmured almost shyly in reply, “Brother.”

I looked down at her, curled into a tight ball against me. A lump formed in my throat, and I made a silent pledge. This sister I would not fail.

Gathering my courage, I asked her, “Can you translate something else for me?”

She hummed, and I asked, “What does ‘Trevalk ary est ungren’ mean?”

She turned her head into my shoulder and shuddered.

I said softly, “You don’t have to tell me.”

She shook her head.

After a moment, she said something so muffled into my neck I couldn’t understand it.

I nudged her. “Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.”

Clara lifted her head enough to be audible when she said, “Survival of the fittest. It’s something the elders told us was true of our kind, that only the best were meant to survive. It was the only coherent thought I had when I came across my clan in that pyre. It means being alone.”

I hugged her tightly. “Don’t worry, little one. You are not alone now.”

She sighed. “No. No I’m not.”

**************************

Clara left soon after our heart to heart, and she was at breakfast. I saw the tension release in the shoulders of my inner circle when she immediately embraced Josie, letting the Antivan fuss over her as usual. Though most of us pretended to be greatly engrossed in other things, with Sera and Cole staring outright, we all kept a close watch over her throughout the morning.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Clara whispered something to Josie with a not-so-mildly distraught expression, something that made Josie frown and tug Clara’s chair closer to her own, murmuring something in return that washed away that awful look in Clara’s eyes.

Dorian slid in the chair next to me with his usual grace, and I tried to stop the ridiculous grin from spreading across my face, to no avail. Clara was letting people near her again, Dorian and his father hadn’t killed each other, and Sera and Cole even made some, if minimal, positive progress!

Of course, there were horrible things going on in Thedas, possibly at that very moment. But for me, there was no Corypheus, or doom upon the earth, or war of the ages. There was only a golden, sun lit room filled to the brim with laughter and food, with The Bull and Sera plotting playfully, with Solas and Vivienne conversing in an almost relaxed tone, and with Dorian’s elbow almost constantly brushing mine.

Varric paused in his story to ask me over the table, “You ok there, Inky?”

I grinned widely at him, watching as the dwarf’s eye relaxed around the corners in a way that always made me feel like a favored nephew. “Absolutely brilliant. Starving though.”

Varric’s eyes glittered. “As usual, then.”

***********************

Clara made rounds that day, visiting for a lengthy while with each of the circle, and spending a good deal of time doing Maker knows what with Sera. Not that I needed to know, because I for one, was very in favor of plausible deniability.

I knew all of this because Lelianna was still keeping a close watch on her, doing a very convincing impression of an overly worried mother, even though her reports took on an especially formal tone.  

I caught up to Clara in the stables late in the afternoon, pleased to see a much warmer look in her eyes and a happier air than I’d been daring to hope for.

Clara reached for a grooming brush, a small smile on her face as Reyvr pushed his nose into the small of her back, demanding attention.

I stood on the other side of the stall door, arms hooked over the edge. With as relaxed an air as I could manage, I asked, “Clara, why aren’t your nightmares about your captivity?”

She paused, mouth twisting into a frown, and I cursed my morbid curiosity.

With a calm voice, Clara answered simply, “A few reasons, I suppose.” She turned to her hart, dragging the brush through its fur as she considered her answer.

After a moment, she shrugged. “I actually do not remember much from my captivity. The iron clouded my senses, it made me lose time. After a short time, or maybe a long time, I started to experience hallucinations because of it. That might be a part of what frightens me the most, because hallucinations have to be based on something. And my imagination seems to have horrible accuracy.” She swallowed, then continued in a softer voice, “Most of what I do remember is fire and ash, the sensation of drowning in smoke, the smell of burning flesh in my nostrils.”

Like an unwelcome friend, the well-remembered scent hung in my nostrils, along with the scent of ozone and blood, of hot metal and campfire.

Clara’s eyes fell back to her hand, frozen in its task. She continued in a stronger voice, “Sometimes I think I remember the beatings, and the rape, but I can never seem to recall more than that it happened. I think I am grateful for that. It might be worse if I could remember.”

She returned to her task with a focused precision. “Also, I viewed it as punishment for failure.”

That startled me, and she gave me a sad, forced smile. “I left my clan because I was selfish. I wanted to see the world, meet new people, and have adventures. My duty was to my people, and my duty kept me with them. But, I was selfish. So I left. And I got my entire clan killed in the process.”

Reyvr, sensing his mistress’s distress, bent his proud head to push his muzzle into her neck. Clara curled her fingers into the great stag’s fur, and though I wanted to reach for her as well, I knew from experience to not ever come close to Reyvr. The stag hated me with the fire of a thousand suns. I was pushing his patience with my distance from him now.

Clara lifted her head, saying, “There’s something you should know. If we ever do come across another Rejalk clan, I will have to return to the forest with them.”

Interrupting my protests, she simply stated, “It is my duty, Stephen. The only reason I have stayed this long is because-” She took a deep breath and reached for my hand. “I meant what I said. In my heart, I feel that you and the others are my clan now. In different ways, yes, and truth be told, I know that there are things that you are all keeping from me, stories that you have yet to share, secrets you have yet to tell, but I think that is the whole point. I loved my clan, I did, and I miss them all, and I will never forgive myself for what happened. But they wanted me to be someone I am not. They wanted perfection from me, and I could never give it to them. To them, I was a disappointment. And I will be again when I have to go back.”

She traced my thumb with her own, eyes wide in her earnesty for me to understand. “But here, _here_ , I am free to make mistakes, to curse in every language I know. I may be good at war, but here I am free to be uncomfortable with power, to be incapable of handling said power, and I’m free to want things.”

Replying in a similar volume, I asked, “What do you want?”

She sighed, putting the grooming brush down and leaning against Reyvr, hand still firmly in my own. “I want Sera to be comfortable around Cole, I want you and Dorian to be the most enchanting couple anyone has ever seen, I want Solas to teach me astronomy, I want Blackwall and The Bull to tell me war stories, I want Krem always at my back and Skinner always at my front, I want to be there to laugh at the way Dalish insists on calling it a bow, and I want to be able to fail, to really fail at something, safe in the knowledge that you and the others will not condemn me for my imperfections. I want Corypheus dead and I want to be by your side when you strike him down.”

She took a deep breath, continuing in a calmer voice, “I want to give up being _Sadal_ , I want to learn Orlesian from Lelianna and learn how to play The Game from Madame Viv, I want Cullen to always look at me the way he does when he thinks I’m not looking, I want Cass and Varric to get along, and I want every morning to be like this morning, sunshine and laughter and food and Josie saying fancy curse words under her breath as she reads reports and Lelianna _always_ catching them and replying in kind. I want to stay here with all of you. I want to stop pretending to be worthy of my title, of even wanting my title. I want to be myself.”

She seemed to finally run out of words, and I was grinning so widely by the end that I had to control myself before speaking, lest I burst out laughing, happy from the knowledge that we made her happy, that she wanted to stay with us.

I regarded her with as much seriousness as I could muster. “Klærissæ, _Tak Sadal_ of the Rejalk. I swear to you, here and now, that I will do everything in my power to keep you with the Inquisition, as long as you wish it so. I swear to honor the title of _Treva_ , and to use that title to its greatest lengths. I swear to you to treat you better than I am able, and strive to keep you happy, healthy, safe, and up to your ears in fulfilled wants.”

Her smile was brilliant, brighter than a sunlit room filled with people, brighter than red-gold hair reflecting the afternoon sun, lovelier than stark white lines etched onto pale, freckled skin.

She released my fingers and lunged forward, throwing her arms around my neck. I locked my arms around her in return, smiling into her sun-warmed hair.

She tucked her head into my neck, and whispered happily, “Thank you.”

I pressed a kiss to her hairline, and released her. “What was that about Dorian and I?”

She grinned, picking up the grooming brush to return to her steed. “Honestly, the way you two look at each other, it is incredibly adorable. I just want you two to get it over with and admit that you are in love with each other.”

With a decided air of non-chalance, she added, “I also want to be the godmother to at least two of your future children.”

“Clara!”

***************************

After things settled down again, I decided to approach Dorian, hoping that this time he would actually tell me what had happened between him and his father to sour things so spectacularly. I wanted to let him know that I was there for him, in any way that he wanted me.

Entering the rotunda, I greeted Solas, who stopped me from climbing the stairs.

The elf was mixing paints, searching for a perfect shade to add to the battle scene that was Haven. When Solas had first started upon it, I couldn’t bear to look at it, the memory too raw in my mind and too painful to bear. It was still difficult to look at now, but bearable. Like all of the other burdens and failures, I would bear Haven too.

Solas asked in his calm voice, “Are you here to make it stop?”

Confused, I replied in kind with a question of my own. “Here to stop, what?”

Solas motioned to the stories above him, saying, “Dorian has been up there studying for days.”

I nodded slowly, not understanding. “That’s what he does.”

Solas pursed his lips, adding more blue to his palette. “Yes. Usually, however, he insists on enchanting paper birds to fly around me at odd intervals, or move my paint pots to different locations while my back is turned, or even, on occasion, throw a book down at me and whine without rest until I stop what I am doing and read it.” Solas’ eyes were firm and almost unhappy. “That is what he usually does. For the past four days, however, he has been silent. I am concerned.”

I smiled at the older elf, saying, “I hope I can help.”

Solas nodded at me, turning back to his painting.

I climbed up the stairs, more than a little worried about Dorian. Contrary to popular belief, the mage could restrain himself if necessary, but he was never silent. Dorian always filled a room with his sheer presence, bright and loud and _there_.

Dorian was in his normal alcove, standing by the window, staring out into the darkening sky.

I paused in the doorway, waiting for him to acknowledge me.

He seemed pensive at best, broody at worst.

When he did speak, his voice was soft, but it still lilted quietly. “He says we’re alike. Too much pride. Once, I would have been overjoyed to hear that. Now, I’m not certain.”

I decided to get directly to the heart of what was bothering me. I needed to know what Dorian’s father had done to alienate his only child. “He tried to change you?”

Dorian shifted slightly, shoulders tensing. “Out of desperation, I think. I wouldn’t put on a show, marry the girl. Keep everything unsavory private and locked away.” Here he choked out a grave laugh. “Selfish, I suppose. To not want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside. He was going to do a blood ritual to alter my mind, to make me, acceptable.” Dorian said the word with a tone that hinted at deep running wounds, the kind that people felt keenly their entire lives. Dorian continued, “When I found out, I left.”

Once again, I found myself stunned at the depths desperate people would go to.  I asked softly, “You don’t think blood magic can actually do that, do you?”

Dorian shrugged, grey eyes still trained on the sky outside. “Maybe. It also could have left me a drooling vegetable. It crushed me to think that he thought that absurd risk preferable to scandal. Part have me has always hoped he didn’t really want to go through with it. If he had…” Dorian turned to look at me over his shoulder, eyes hollowing. “I can’t even imagine the person I would be now.” He turned away, murmuring, “I wouldn’t like that Dorian.”

I knew I felt the same. The other Dorian would never again dare to sneer in the face of what was expected. Would never dare question his father, his culture, or even his surroundings again. The other Dorian would never again give his opinion regardless of whether or not it was asked for, the other Dorian would not even know his own feelings. It would be a shade creature of the Dorian I knew, the one who lit up rooms when he passed through, as if leaving a trail of light behind him.

I stepped closer, asking softly, “Are you alright?”

He shook his head. “No. Not really.” He turned to face me fully, as the sun began its final descent into the horizon. “Thank you, for bringing me out there. It wasn’t what I expected, nor its aftermath, but. It’s something. Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display.”

I knew the look that was slowly creeping onto his face, it was the mask he wore in the weeks before we truly got to know one another. I did not want him thinking any less of himself, and I did not want him to hide behind that mask, not with me. Nothing that his stupid father or anyone else had said or done to him in Tevinter was his fault. I replied firmly, “I think you are very brave.”

His eyes widened. “Brave?” it seemed a foreign concept to him, something he never dared to consider himself.

It was one of the main attributes I associated with him. “It’s not easy to abandon tradition and walk your own path.”

He smiled, a smaller one that held more of that light and sunshine that I’d always associated with people like him. He, Clara, and even Solas at times, had a way of making everything seem made of light. Effortless, like breathing. Like walking in a sun drenched garden with a trusted friend, or teasing a brother in easy banter. Like a room full of old books and snarky comments or the morning sun breaking over a girl with red-gold hair.

Dorian ducked his head, folding the smile away as I held the memory of it close, allowing an affectionate smile to cross my own features.

Dorian cleared his throat, saying, “How is our little lioness, still recovering?”

I nodded. “Slowly but surely. A trooper, as always. Did she come to see you today?”

He nodded, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Yes, she did. Very interesting conversation. She asked me if I wanted to become a member of the Rejalk.”

I immediately blurted out, “You did say yes, right?”

He raised an eyebrow, saying imperiously, “Course I said yes, I am getting my tattoo tomorrow. What do you take me for? Rebel mage I may be, crusher of girls hearts I am not.”

I grinned, stepping forward. “Well, maybe you are a crusher of girl’s hearts. After all, I know of a few here that were very crushed their flirting was to no avail.”

Dorian nodded, eyes bright. “I only crush the hearts of milk maidens that have more to live for.”

I hummed in agreement. “But what about the hearts of men?”

We were standing particularly close by now, our eyes locked onto one another. My palms were a bit slick, my heartbeat starting to pound.

Dorian let a provocative smile curl over his face, his eyes raking down my body in a way that made me shudder. “A man? I would never dare lead a man on.”

Without thinking I responded, voice rumbling, “Nor I.”

My heartbeat was pounding in my ears, but even as I started to close the distance between us, Dorian’s grin widened and he stepped back.

He took a deep breath, then said, “Anyway, time to drink myself into a stupor. It’s been that sort of day. Join me sometime, if you’ve a mind.”

I shook my head, feeling my ears get hot. “I would join you for the tattoo, but I'm getting my own after this next excursion. As to the drink, no, thank you. I think I’ve given up drink for quite some time after the last occasion.”

Dorian’s eyes shot wide in recognition. “I almost forgot about that. You-”

I made a pained noise and begged, “Please, please, don’t bring it up.”

He tried for innocent as we left the alcove. “What, it is a very fond memory for me. After all, you do have a lovely singing voice.”

I tipped my head back and groaned loudly in mock pain, as Dorian laughed raucously.

************************************

The next day was the day before I had to leave for the Hissing Wastes, and I was making rounds, saying goodbye to almost everyone (not so surprisingly, hardly anyone wanted to go with me to the dry, arid desert). I was taking Cass, The Bull, and Cole, as they were the only ones who didn’t complain endlessly while we were there.

For different reasons, of course. I was taking Cass because of two reasons. Reason number one, Cass never complained because she was too impeccably trained. Reason number two was that every time I took Cassandra along with me anywhere, things seemed to fall into place much better, because nothing ever went against what Cassandra wanted. I was under the impression the only thing to ever not go her way or do things she didn’t plan for was Varric. Varric, much like Sera, never followed what anyone wanted.

I was taking the The Bull because he also never complained about going to the desert. This was because there were tiny, fake dragons to be found there. Or, in Leliana’s words, huge and scaly lizards with terrible breath and mean tempers. The Bull loved the damn things, and I had a dangerous feeling that one of these days he was going to beg me to bring one home, look at me with his stupid Mabari puppy eyes, and I'd have to take the stupid, fake dragon home with us.

Cole never complained because he was my favorite, he never complained about anything.

Maker, I loved Cole.

So as I was making rounds, checking in on everyone (or observing from afar in Madame Vivienne’s case because Inquisitor or no, she was terrifying and she’d seen me half naked), I decided to go to Dorian last. It would undoubtedly give me more time with him, which was always a complete plus.

I entered the rotunda, momentarily admiring Solas’ work and having a quick chat over the possibility to get Solas some material for new paint while in the Wastes. After squaring that away, I noticed raised voices upstairs. Solas turned back to his painting, murmuring disinterestedly, “Mother Giselle is upstairs at the moment with Dorian. I think that is where all the ruckus is coming from.”

I nodded, beginning my ascent, calling back, “Please keep an eye on Sera and Clara, but do not engage for everyone’s safety.”

As I neared Dorian’s favored alcove, I could hear the conversation much more clearly.

Mother Giselle was clearly very agitated, I could hear it in her voice as I heard her say, “I do not know what you think you are doing.”

Dorian was not having any of it. “I’m being clucked at by a hen, evidently.”

Mother Giselle was quick to reply, “Don’t play the fool with me, young man.”

Dorian answered in a tight drawl, “If I wanted to play the fool, I could be rather more convincing, I assure you.”

“Your glib tongue does you no credit.” Mother Giselle was very agitated indeed.

Dorian got in one last quip as I approached. “You’d be surprised the credit my tongue gets me, Your Reverence.”

Mother Giselle started to answer hotly, but instead cleared her throat and started again as she saw me approach. “Oh, I…”

I sighed deeply, asking, “Just what is going on here?”

Dorian answered in a falsely light tone, “It seems the Revered Mother is concerned about my ‘undue influence’ over you.”

The Mother insisted, “It is just concern.” She turned to me, saying. “Your Worship, you must know how this looks.”

Dorian tutted. “You might have to spell it out for him, my dear.”

I could really tell that Madame Vivienne was really rubbing off on Dorian.

After visibly restraining herself, Mother Giselle motioned to Dorian and said, “This man is of Tevinter. His presence at your side, the rumors alone…”

I very nearly rolled my eyes, but I grit my teeth and asked, “What’s wrong with him being from Tevinter, specifically?”

This was idiotic. The whole idea behind the Inquisition was equality and rights for all, and the fact that the people of the Inquisition would give out acceptance to The Bull and Clara but not to people like Dorian or even Solas was incredibly frustrating and counter-productive.

Mother Giselle replied in an even tone, “I am fully aware that not everyone from the Imperium is the same.”

Dorian once again quipped in that hard, sharp tone that cut like steel, “How kind of you to notice. Yet you still bow to the opinion of the masses?”

Mother Giselle answered, “The opinion of the masses is based on centuries of evidence. What would you have me tell them?”

Dorian feigned thinking for a moment before replying, “The truth, perhaps?”

The Mother shook her head. “The truth is I do not know you, and neither do they. Thus, these rumors will continue.”

I sighed, saying, “Mother Giselle, you know that the Inquisition is based on the idea of providing equality for all. Thus we do not have an official religion, and while we are incredibly grateful of your presence here, the concerns of the Chantry are not the concerns of the Inquisition.”

Mother Giselle nodded, though her jaw tensed. “I’m aware of that. You risk, however, not only the Chantry’s opinion.”

I straightened up, eyes narrowing. That sounded threatening to me. “And if I asked from where these rumors originated?”

It might have been the fire in my eyes, or the confrontational position of my stance, but Mother Giselle finally seemed to realize she may have pushed too far. She stepped back, saying, “I…see. I meant no disrespect, Inquisitor, only to ask after this man’s intentions. If you feel that he is without ulterior motive, I humbly beg forgiveness of you both.”

I replied firmly, “I most certainly do believe him to be without ulterior motive. And you would do well, Mother Giselle, to not hang a man before trial in the future. That is not the way of the Inquisition.”

She paused, but nodded, bowed, and left.

Dorian and I watched her descend the stairs for a moment, before he snorted. “Well that’s something.”

I turned to him, slightly concerned. “She didn’t get to you, did she?”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “No. It takes more to get to me than thinly veiled accusations.”

Still concerned, I pressed, “You don’t think she’ll do anything, do you?” That remark about opinons still stuck with me.

Dorian snorted again. “Do what? Yours is the good opinion I care about, not hers. You know, the assumption in some circles is that you and I are…intimate.”

I swallowed down the instant reply of, ‘Yes, please, I would like to be doing that, and with a hefty side of feelings, because I have very many of those.’

Instead, I replied, “That’s not the worst assumption they could have, is it?”

Dorian took on an innocent stance. “I don’t know, is it?”

“Do you always answer a question with a question?”

Dorian grinned at my reply, then answered, “Would you like me to answer in some other fashion?”

I grinned back at him, relaxed as could be. “If you’re capable.”

One moment we were standing a few paces apart, the next Dorian was stepping as close to me as possible, yanking my head down, and pressing a hot kiss to my lips.

My hands immediately went to his face, holding it so that if he wanted to, he could back away. I kissed him back with extreme pleasure, paying special attention to what elicited a noise from the handsome mage.

As with everything he did, Dorian was a fantastic kisser, thorough and firm, and excruciatingly sensual.

He broke the kiss much sooner than I had planned for, and I stumbled a little. Both of us were breathing a little heavier, though mainly through nerves, at least for me.

Dorian smiled a private grin I had only seen once or twice. He whispered, “’If you’re capable.’ The nonsense you speak.”

I huffed a soft laugh, saying, “You realize this makes the rumors somewhat true?”

He hummed, then backed away into his alcove, picking up a book and saying, “We’ll have to explore further, then. In private.”

I was smiling incredibly widely, and Dorian could tell.

He simply sat in his plush chair, cracking his book and saying, “Do be careful in the Hissing Wastes. Wouldn’t want to lose anything out there.”

I chuckled, and replied, “Of course. Until next time, Dorian.”

He raised a hand in farewell, now actually reading the book.

I smiled the whole way down the stairs, out of the rotunda, and across the courtyard.

I couldn’t wait until we got back from this next excursion.

**********************************

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo? How was it? Clara is all mine, the rest belongs to Bioware and its afilliates and stuff.


End file.
